Languid
by Singing Violin
Summary: Is Lana crazy enough at the end of Wrath to do something drastic? This story was intended as a stand-alone - hence complete status - but since someone asked, I may consider writing a continuation at some point - but don't hold your breath.


Title: Languid  
Series: Star Trek: Voyager  
Author: Singing Violin  
Rating: T  
Summary: Is Lana crazy enough at the end of "Wrath" to do something drastic?  
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Also, I support the WGA. Nobody will ever make any profit from my stories, and I don't believe their existence is preventing someone else from making a profit, so I don't believe I am a scab for writing this during the strike.  
Feedback: Yes please.  
Archiving: Anywhere.

**Lana**

"I need to know that you love me…no matter what," I tell him. I know my eyes are pleading, but I don't care. There's a large part of me that wants him, like he has so many times before, to pull me into his arms and whisper to me that everything's going to be okay.

But this time, that can't happen.

There's a look in Clark's eyes that I've never seen before. It is doubt…doubt about whether or not he still loves me. And while the absence of that look has worried me before, now it is the most disappointing thing I have ever seen.

_I would do anything for you, Clark…_

It's still true. And in this moment, I know what I need to do. For you, Clark.

The words I mumble I am hardly aware of, but he, too, is distracted. "I'm going to take a walk," I utter, and he nods.

On my way out the door, I glance back at him one last time. He stares at the floor. Have I disillusioned him so completely? My resolve deepens.

_He is not like the rest of us…_

How does Lex know? What does he know?

Suddenly I decide where I am going. A little white lie about an apology, and the guards should let me in…

**Clark**

For the first time, I have doubts about this relationship. Is the Lana I love real, or a product of my hopes and dreams?

_I would do anything for you, Clark…_

Why does that simple profession of her devotion worry me? Is it because I have now seen, first-hand, what exactly she is willing to do "for me"? I have been repeatedly told not to get too attached to these humans…that one day, they will be gone and I will still be here, with a responsibility towards their descendants.

Or is it because I don't believe her? She has lied to me, and perhaps to herself, so many times recently that I doubt her honest motive. Will she really do anything for me, or will she use me as an excuse to do anything she wants, for any purpose that suits her?

She has left now, giving me time to think. Ironically, although I can run faster than anyone else on the planet – save possibly Bart – and I can read hundreds of pages in a few seconds, absorbing all the information – it takes me as long, if not longer, than the average human to process what I know into a reasonable course of action. Is it because, although I have lived over two decades on this planet, these people are still so alien to me that I cannot comprehend them?

**Lana**

Yes, this is exactly where I need to be. My vision is slightly fuzzy – Lex has the best alcohol, and I have indulged myself in an effort to embolden myself to complete my task. Staggering slightly, I find the bed, and a familiar sensation of excitement washes over me.

_This is the bed in which my child would have been conceived…if it had existed._

Anger, resentment, guilt, and arousal mix inside of me as I begin.

The blood is pretty as it drips onto the bed. Small rivulets become large dots, which spread into the decadent material in oddly fascinating patterns.

For a brief moment, I wonder whether, with the thick red liquid as my ink and the once-pristine sheets as my canvas, I might provide an epilogue to the letter I have left for the one person who will understand and approve of what I have done.

But I am barely holding onto consciousness as it is, and do not have the capacity of concentration that would be required. Instead, I stare at my dripping arms until the darkness claims me.

**Lex**

The guards tell me that Lana is here. I take a moment to chastise them for allowing her entry, given what she did last time. They remind me that they did not, in fact, let her in last time, as her temporary powers allowed her access without their consent.

Once again, I wonder whether they are more loyal to those I love or have loved than to me. However, I can see in their eyes that they honestly do not believe she is a threat at this time, and somehow, I believe that too.

I enter the hall where I expect to find her waiting, but she is not there. I begin to search the other rooms – perhaps she has tired of waiting and has wandered somewhere to reminisce. I discovered when she came to kill me that she still has strong feelings towards me, and a bubble of hope rises inside of me. Perhaps a chance still exists that she wants to reconcile. I know I shouldn't believe it, believe her…she is as shrewd as I have taught her to be, and then some. But so help me, I have never felt for someone what I feel for her.

I am still in love.

And when I open the door to what was once the bridal chamber, my heart leaps into my throat. She is sprawled on the bed, asleep, like so many times before.

No, something's wrong…she is not asleep. I gulp. She is unnaturally pale, and her chest does not rise as it should.

Time seems to slow as I press my fingers to her neck.

She is not dead. Not yet.

I can save her. But should I? Will I only be bringing her back to cause me more pain…perhaps, even, to cause my own death?

It occurs to me that, should they find her here, in this state, given our recent history, they may once again believe that I have attempted to kill her. For all I know, this isn't even the real Lana – several clones still exist, though nobody is supposed to know about them.

I still my impulse to call for the guards. I am not ready to go to jail again for a crime I didn't commit.

I cradle her in my arms, and press my lips to hers in order to transfer life-giving breath.

As I raise her body, I realize there is an envelope underneath it. The name reminds me that I should be getting help. Whether or not that name is the proper person to call, I am not sure, but it is a start.

Thank God, she answers the phone.

"Chloe?" I squeak. "It's Lana…"

I drop the phone and begin again to breathe for my beloved. As the phone drops to the floor, I can hear the voice on the other end acknowledging me. "I'll be right there."

**Chloe**

I know at once that something has happened between Clark and Lana when it is Lex who calls me with panic in his voice. I have never heard him so distressed – I honestly didn't believe it to be in his nature, but somehow, now, he is genuinely upset – and when he confirms the source of his concern, I am suddenly worried too.

As I race to my car, I call Clark. He is reluctant to interfere; he mumbles something about her needing time to think, but I yell at him and insist that there is something very wrong.

It is in that moment that I remember what I told Lana, and my worry increases tenfold.

_I won't let that happen…_

**Clark**

Chloe says there is something wrong with Lana, that she is with Lex. I am more reluctant than ever to interfere; I have not yet come to terms with my own feelings and I am not ready to see her with him again.

She is insistent, however, and out of my loyalty to her, I agree to come. But I do not race over as usual; for one thing, I am careful about the use of my powers now, especially around Lex, as he seems closer than ever to discovering my family secret, and there is a new member of my family who needs protection now.

When I arrive, and the people I expect to see aren't in the place I expect to see them, I quickly X-ray and find them immediately. Even before I enter the room, the scene before me leaves me shocked and speechless.

Lana lies, limp and wan, in Lex's arms, and the bald man looks up at me pleadingly as I enter.

Chloe stands beside them, holding an envelope and letter in her trembling hands. She too, looks up at me, and there are tears in her eyes.

"She did it for you, Clark," she whispers.

Then, and it takes me a moment to register that she has just instructed me to act, "Get him out of here. Now."

I nod and gently wrest Lana from Lex's arms, placing her back upon the stained bed.

Strangely enough, Lex obediently leaves the room with me, and for at least the third time in the last year, I wonder whether there is good left in him that we have all failed to realize.

My super-hearing picks up soft whispers from the other room.

"I'm sorry for what I said, Lana. Please, don't die." Sobs interrupt the speech, and then all is silent. I resist the urge to burst back into the room.

Suddenly I hear a scream. The voice is a different one. "Chloe!" it calls. "Wake up!"


End file.
